Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I heard movement and opened my eyes. She bent forward, lifting a sandwich off the plate and slowly bringing it to her mouth. I got great satisfaction as I watched her bite and chew, her eyes fluttering closed as she swallowed. I knew she was hungry.
Her eyes opened, and she blushed as she saw me watching her. Without thinking, I flicked the gun in her direction. “Keep eating.”
Her already-pale face became ghostly. With a grimace, I shoved the gun down the small of my back. “Sorry,” I offered. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She lifted her head haughtily. “I’m not scared of you.”
I laughed, knowing how much of a lie that was. “You should be. Don’t forget that.”
I lifted the can of Coke and offered it to her, frowning when she shook her head. “Why? It’s in a can. I can’t drug it in the damn can!”
“You could put something on the lid.”
I stood. “You watch too much fucking TV.”
She snorted. “I’m homeless, fuckwit. We don’t carry flat-screens with us.”
My lips quirked. Did she really just call me fuckwit? That was one of my favorite expressions.
“You have quite the potty mouth on you for such a little lady.”
She shrugged as she took another bite of sandwich. “You should talk, buddy.”
Walking to the bathroom, I ran the can under the water in the sink and flicked a towel off the rack, making a show of drying it. I handed it back to her. “There. Drug-free.”
She struggled to pop the top, and with a groan of impatience, I grabbed the can away from her and opened it. “Can or glass?”
“Glass.”
I poured the contents over the ice and slid the glass toward her. She took a deep swallow and sighed in satisfaction. She tilted the glass back and drained it. Obviously, she was thirsty too.
Before I could ask her if she wanted more, she belched. A long, loud burp that burst from her chest with no warning. Her eyes widened, her cheeks darkening as her hand covered her mouth. “Excuse me,” she mumbled.
“Nice.” I chuckled as I stood. “Ladylike—just as I expected from you.”
I walked toward the door, satisfied she would eat and knowing she would relax more if I was out of the room. Unable to resist, I paused as I walked out.
“Skylar?”
“What?”
“You forgot to check the ice. That’s where I put the drugs.”
I was laughing as she shrieked, and the sound of the glass hitting the door and shattering behind me only made me laugh harder.
“Get some sleep,” I called over my shoulder.
I passed Sean in the hall. “Cleanup, aisle four.”
“I heard.”
“Skylar may need something else to drink.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.” He smirked at me. “She’s getting to you.”
I shrugged.
But as I walked away, I knew he was right.
She had already gotten under my skin.
This was so not part of the plan.
Chapter 3
Cian
Later, alone in my room, I watched her stubborn streak rear itself again. She sat in the chair, refusing the fresh drink Sean offered, muttering at him the entire time he calmly swept up the mess of broken glass and ice. After he left, I assumed she would give in and crawl into bed. But instead, she sat in the chair, her head occasionally nodding, refusing to succumb to the exhaustion I knew she had to be feeling. I was tired of simply watching her fight against sleep. When her head finally hit her chest, her hands falling limp to the sides, I slipped into the room and carried her over to the bed, tucking the blankets tight so she could get a proper night’s sleep.
I stood over her, finally able to take her in without her glaring at me. Skylar’s face was heart-shaped and pale, with deep shadows under her eyes. Long lashes rested on her cheeks. One dark bruise to the side of her eye made me frown. I traced it lightly with my finger, still wondering how she got it and why it bothered me so much. Her lips were full and pouty, and I remembered the feeling of them pressed against my palm. Her hair, dry now, was a mass of curls and a deep brown like her eyes. Her little hands were clutching the blanket, another deep bruise on the back of one. She was thin, far too thin, but I also knew that came from living on the streets. I wondered what her story was and if we would ever be close enough for her to tell me.
I stepped back in surprise.
I wanted to be close enough for that?
What the fuck was she doing to me?
How was that possible? I didn’t know this girl. I shouldn’t know this girl. But still, the need to be sure she was safe was strong. I wanted to sit beside her and watch over her all night. Be there if she woke up scared. Hold her if she needed to be comforted.